


Red Sky at Morning

by Poetiicdissonance



Series: Dark Matter Stretching Between Stars [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, False Identity, First Meetings, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Morning After, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26363065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poetiicdissonance/pseuds/Poetiicdissonance
Summary: In the beginning, there is no war, and no First Order- there is just a cantina brawl in Mos Eisely, and a pretty redhead.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux
Series: Dark Matter Stretching Between Stars [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1630951
Kudos: 21





	Red Sky at Morning

**Author's Note:**

> ... So... this has been sitting in my drafts for something like six months, but hey! It's finally done, this is a good thing! If you haven't read Grey Area, the first part of this series, that's okay, that comes... something like 13 years after this. This is the prologue to that. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you like this. It was originally going to be from Hux's PoV, but then Poe decided to hijack it, and so now we're here.

_ Technically _ Poe’s not supposed to be here. Tatooine isn’t part of his patrol route, but if anyone asks later why he was there, it’ll be easier to say he needed a spare part. In truth, he’d heard rumours about Imperial activity, and even if the New Republic didn’t think that they were a legitimate threat, he did. It wasn’t like this was even going to be the first time that the Admiral has gotten angry with him for going off course. No, that particular battle had been one they’d been having back and forth for almost two years. 

It was because of that very reason he’d gotten a demotion two months ago, and as annoyed as he was about it, he couldn’t blame them. Sure, he didn't agree with them that there was no threat, but he could see why they’d demoted him. It would be nice if they could admit that there was an actual war on the horizon. And  **that** stubborn refusal was exactly the reason he was here on Tatooine, trying to track down the source of the rumors, or if he was lucky, some actual sign of the Empire trying to rebuild its power. 

It was easy to forget just how  _ hot _ Tatooine got by late afternoon, and after making his rounds in the Mos Eisley underground, Poe found himself tucked in the back corner of one of the many cantina’s, as he tried desperately to block out some of the unrelenting heat. The search had been… unsuccessful to say the least, and it’s nearly enough to make him think that the whole thing had been a bad idea, which, he isn’t entirely convinced it  _ wasn’t _ . All it had gotten him was some doors slammed in his face, and so kriffing hot. He didn’t remember it being this miserable before, but the relative cool of the shadows were about as much relief as he could get.

The dimly lit cantina brightened for a few seconds as the door opened, and a man with bright red hair entered, looking about as enthused as Poe was. He didn’t look like he was native- the red hair, and deathly pale skin marking him as an outsider, but, Poe thought, returning his attention to his drink, Mos Eisly was a bustling trade hub for anyone who worked in the underground. His stint with the spice runners had taught him that: a year undercover had given him nothing but a mild appreciation for just how unaware the Republic was of what happened outside the core worlds.

At the bar, he could overhear the start of an argument breaking out, something about… something-- he wasn’t quite sure what it was, nor could he bring himself to care. What he could tell, was that the Dresselian had just thrown it’s glass at whoever they were arguing with, and the human had returned with their own cup. It was time he got out of here. Poe downed the rest of his drink, and grabbed his bag. There wasn’t a good reason to stay here during a bar fight, he’d learned  _ that _ the hard way after one too many bruises from not getting out of the way when one broke out. 

Around him, the fighting had reached other tables- everybody seemed to like a good cantina brawl- and Poe sidesteps a punch aimed at whoever was nearby. He sees the pretty redhead again out of the corner of his eye, who seems to have made the same choice, as he grabs the small bag he had by his feet. Poe drops into the chair across from him with a grin, and the man looks up surprised. Well, if he was already here… what harm could it be to try and get a night out of it? The fight was only starting to pick up, an extra minute couldn’t hurt him much more than a bruised ego and maybe some literal bruises.

A plate goes flying past their heads and shatters on a table a few feet away, and  Poe thinks that if he wants to do this, it had better be fast, before someone, or something hits one of them. It was definitely best to avoid getting a plate to the arm, or someone it could do more damage. Well, what were poor impulses for unless this? It’s what made him a good pilot afterall. “What do you say Red, wanna get out of here?” 

The man looks annoyed for a brief second at the name, but the expression fades as another piece of angrily-thrown dish shatters against the wall next to them. Poe laughs at the expression, but stands, offering the redhead a hand, as he shrugs towards the door. “I swear I can make it worth your while.” though, that he doubted would be hard, considering the alternative was staying here. 

“Wil.” the other man corrects, ignoring Poe’s hand, but still standing to follow him. “My name is Wil,  _ not _ Red.”

“Kes, Kes Andor.” Poe introduces, as they make their way out of the door, the wood falling shut behind them. as the door swings shut behind them. “I have a room half a block away.”

* * *

When he woke up the next morning, Wil was gone, and the bed beside him was cold. On the pillow is a note, written in neat, if slightly cramped handwriting. ‘Thank you - Wil’. Poe’s pretty certain that the name is a lie, but it wasn’t like he could throw any stones. Kes Andor had been his go-to alias ever since he had picked up checking out the rumors. It wasn’t like they were ever going to see each other again, anyways. Besides, it was Mos Eisley, no one who knew the underground, or had half a piece of sense would use their given name.

* * *

Canto Bight was… many things. Bright, and loud, and full of people with too much money. But Poe supposed the planet had made its fortune on the lights and jewels that filled it’s casinos. He hadn’t actually been here for much more than parts before, but General Organa had asked him to check out the planet for potential investors using his natural charm and affinity for people. It was just lucky he had managed to collect enough ‘vacation’ time from the Republic to do this. 

So here he was, trying with limited success to sway backers to the side of the Resistance. He’d already managed to convince one of the seven people he’d talked to, to give them some support, and three of the others had said they’d consider it, which Poe counted as a win, even if it probably meant that they’d all be using old x-wings and stretching the fuel until one of them decided to have an uncharacteristically compassionate moment. 

Poe was walking around the room, looking for another person to talk to when familiar red hair caught his eye. Red- or Wil he supposed, was sitting awkwardly next to a man on one of the couches, trying, he assumed to do exactly what he was. The man was leaning forward with clear intentions, and Wil, Poe noticed, had shifted to the far end of the couch, his tight smile looking more like a pained grimace, body poised like it was going to bolt. Or stab the man, from what he could see, he wouldn't; put it past Wil. For a few seconds, Poe watched the scene, before making a choice. One guaranteed backer, and three potential backers was good, good enough that he wasn’t willing to pass up the chance to see Wil again. 

Poe ordered two drinks from the bar, and the sparkling, bubbly concoction he got looked reasonably non-threatening. He turned, heading back to the couch, and smiled as he approached the meeting. “Red!” He called genially, as he held out one of the glasses to Wil. “I thought you said you were going to meet me at the bar.”

The two men turned to look at him, the businessman with confusion, and Wil with a look of dawning understanding, as the gears in his head turned and clicked into place. “I hadn’t seen you there.” he says easily, sliding into the lie with barely any hesitation. He stands, just as smoothly, and takes one of the drinks from Poe’s still outstretched hands. Huh, that was interesting, Red was a talented liar, definitely one of the better ones Poe had met, and that was including himself.

The would-be business partner had sat back, with a feeling that Poe would categorize as disappointment. Wil turned back to the man, his expression settling into something that didn't quite resemble a grimace. “Have a good evening Mr. Kemler, it was unfortunate we couldn’t reach an agreeable deal.” and then he turned, looking back at Poe with a raised brow. 

Poe shrugged towards the door, a whispered “I’ll explain.” as he downed the drink, a slightly fruity champagne he learned. He sat the empty drink on the corner of the nearest table, wrapping one arm around Wil’s waist, the man himself, looking at him with a flat expression that Poe returned with a smile. For the authenticity, he’d say if Red asked. He didn’t pull away though, as Poe led him out of the bustling room. 

* * *

Morning always seemed to come too fast, although Poe thought, most morning he didn’t wake up with a beautiful redhead beside him. Wil had curled up on his side, and unlike last time, he hadn’t left at some point during the night. Poe leaned back against the pillows, turning to look at his bed partner who stirred barely a minute later. 

“Pretty sure it’s customary to thank the man that saves you from unwanted advances.”

Wil turns so he’s facing Poe, with his back to the window, the same unimpressed expression as the night before. “I think last night encompasses a simple thanks, Andor.” 

“After last night, and the last time we met, I think you can call me by my first name.” Poe laughs, and nods, and they both fade back into silence, as they get out of the bed, both of them gathering their clothes.

“I never did get your last name, you know.” Poe says, settling back on the edge of the bed, as he pulls on his boots, and tucks his mother’s ring back under the collar of his shirt. 

Wil looks over at him, his own shirt mostly buttoned. “Amedda.” he says, and Poe rolls the name over on his tongue. Wil Amedda-- he liked it, even if it  _ was _ probably a lie.

“Well then, Mr. Amedda, I suppose this is my stop. I’d say until we meet again next time but…” he shrugged, and threw out the most charming grin he could. “It seems unlikely in this wild galaxy of ours.”

* * *

Meeting Wil twice, Poe could accept. The galaxy was a big place, but both Canto Bight and Mos Eisley were big places, bustling with life at least. Three times however, was insane, even more so because Lunaris station was about as inconspicuous as you got. And yet, Poe thought, as he stepped into the single bar on the station, it was real, and Wil Amedda was sitting there, like it made any sense for them to meet again. 

If Poe believed that the Force cared about what he did, he might think it was playing some cosmic joke on him, because this was insane, well and truly. The chances of it happening twice were slim, this was… well, part of him wanted to think that it wasn’t Wil Amedda, because why he would be on a small smuggler’s station was beyond Poe. 

He blinked once at the sight in front of him, like it would change the scene. It didn’t. 

Instead of greeting him immediately, Poe got a drink from the bar, the… alcohol of indeterminate origin wasn’t bad, but the silver liquid wasn’t like anything he had seen before, it was almost like they had melted down a moon into alcohol form. Looking back up at Wil, he grabbed the glass, the liquid reflecting the dim lighting; sparkling and shimmering like one of the Canto Bight drinks offered to the rich patrons who had the money to waste on things like this.

He sank into the chair opposite Wil, and the other man looked surprised to see him. Statistical impossibilities weren’t a complete surprise to everyone but Poe then, that was good. In fact, Wil probably looked more surprised to see him than Poe felt.

“It’s nice to see you.” Wil started, and then stopped, neither of them quite sure what to say.

“Yeah, “ Poe said, and the agreement seemed like a pretense-- there were many words Poe would use to describe this third meeting, and nice, while hopefully a byproduct, among others, wasn’t exactly the word leaping to mind. He took another drink of the shimmering alcohol. 

“I hope you’ve been well.” In a way he was, Poe thought, but didn’t say. He had left the Republic Navy, and joined properly with General Organa’s Resistance, and he couldn't bring himself to regret it. BB-8 seemed happy enough with the change, though he was pretty certain that Admiral might  _ kill _ him if he ever came back. He had  _ basically _ stolen BB-8 from them (okay, so maybe had outright stolen, but that was his droid, and it wasn’t like the Admiral or anyone else would even miss him).

“Well enough,” Poe said in response. “And you?”

He could see Wil considering the answer for a few seconds, likely trying to find a good answer too. “I’ve been… well.”

Poe took another drink, finishing it, before setting the empty glass to the side. Wil seemed to have the same drink, but he didn't seem to have taken much from it, the drink was still mostly full. 

“I have a room upstairs if you want to go.” Wil offered, pushing the cup away from himself with a distracted look. 

“I wouldn’t say no.” Poe said, and they both stood, Wil’s cup of shimmering almost-moon left on the counter.

* * *

Technically Lunaris didn’t have a morning, or a night for that matter. The station rotated enough to create its own gravity, but the closest star was half a lightyear from the station. That didn’t stop it from feeling like morning when Poe woke up however. 

He sat up, noticing that Wil was already awake, and had pulled on most of his clothes. He looked shaken, and if Poe had to guess, it might have been a nightmare. He was rolling something in between his fingers, but what it was, Poe wasn’t sure. “Red, everything alright?”

Wil looked over at him, eyes opened wider than usual, and he hastily slipped whatever it was into his pocket. “Not Red,” he said, and Poe let out a slight smile, the reminder heavily reminiscent of their first meeting on Mos Eisley. “Armi-  _ Wil _ .” he corrected mid-word, and that slip alone both confirmed what he’d thought about the name not being genuine, and also made him concerned with just how shaken the dream had made him. 

“I’m fine.” he continued, as if the interruption had never happened, and Poe watched as the mask of indifference slid over Wil’s features, the distracted feeling slipping beneath. 

“You sure? You look pretty shaken.” Poe said, not moving to offer comfort. He wasn't sure how Wil would react to that, and considering the other man, and what he'd seen, he doubted it would be appreciated. 

“I said, I’m  **_fine_ ** .” He still seemed shaken, but before Poe could say anything else, he had turned and left the room.

* * *

It’s raining outside, not uncommon here, he’s been led to believe, but the Devrai system had only just left its self imposed isolation a few months ago, so he hadn’t had the chance to know for himself. But he’d been flying for days, and either he stopped here for some much needed sleep, or he slept in the X-wings cockpit drifting in the vacuum of space. The choice had been easy to make.

The city he lands in is… vast isn’t the right word, but it  _ is _ impressive. A lot of glass and stone and metal, combining to create something that feels like a cross between relatively modern, and like something he’d see in his father’s old photographs.

The building he enters says it’s a pub, whatever language they speak here taking up the sign, and a smaller, hastily scrawled translation in basic at the bottom. Well, so long as it had alcohol, he wasn't picky. After, he’d need to find an actual place to sleep, but for now… it meant a chance to get out of the x-wing. And that, Poe thinks, upon stepping into the pub, was a foolish decision to make. He really, really should have just kept flying, because obviously he was seeing things, as there was no- no way that Wil Amedda was here. It wasn't possible, it couldn't be.

The system had only left it’s isolation a few months ago, and most people still didn’t know about it, besides, it wasn't exactly a hot tourist destination, not that he assumed Wil took vacation considering what he’d seen of him. It took a man devoted to their work to be willing to even poorly endure the advances of the man in Canto Bight for the slim chance at funding.

For a second, he considers walking right back out again, but then he looks at the street behind him, and the rain that is only starting to come down harder, and makes the choice to act like the adult he is, even if the Force had decided to mess with him, and have him keep meeting the same pretty ginger.

He heads up towards the bar, passing by Wil, who’s talking with a man who, if Poe had to guess, looked like a bounty hunter, or a smuggler. His hair was a curly mess, hanging down by his shoulders, and he hunched forward, looking at Wil with an expression that if it were anyone else, might have Poe stepping in on the other person’s behalf, but he knew Wil, knew that in most cases, was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, and he was sitting in his chair looking unconcerned.

“You can’t be serious, Armitage. I get it, but there's no way this can be a good choice.” he looks like he’s going to continue, and then his eyes catch on Poe who had slowed down just a step as he passed their table. So he was right, Wil wasn't actually Wil, or even Red, he was Armitage. It suited him, even if it seemed so at odds with the short, simple (forgettable, his brain supplied) name that he’d given.

“It looks like we have company.” the maybe-smuggler said standing, a hand lifting to rest on a suspicious holster on his thigh. Yeah, this was not ideal, but it was fine. He shrugged, holding his hands up in a ‘I surrender’ motion. 

“Hey, don't’ go shooting me, I just saw someone that looked like someone I knew.” with that, he turned to look at Wil- Armitage now. (He supposed that could be a lie too, but he doubted it. It seemed too… big to be anything but his real name). Armitage turned to look at him, and his eyes widened. “Andor- Kes. It’s… a surprise to see you here. This,” he said, with a head-tilt towards the man who was still making mildly threatening motions towards Poe. “Is Pelin Kovvok, he’s... “

“A friend.” Pelin supplied, and dropped his hand to only hovering around the blaster, and not half a second from drawing it. “I’ll be off, if you come to your senses, contact me.” And then he was gone, the door opening, and the sound of rain hitting asphalt filtering in, before the door closed, and he and Armitage were left alone. 

“So… Armitage huh?” 

Armitage looked a bit like he wanted to kill Poe, slowly, painfully, or maybe, just have the earth swallow him up. Both seemed to be equally likely, and equally desirable options to the redhead.

“It suits you.” Poe continued, and internally cringed, well, if he hadn’t already dug his own grave, he was sure putting his foot into it now. (Part of him was pretty sure those were mixed metaphors there, but it seemed to work). “I’m Poe.” he offered, mind already telling him this was an unbelievably stupid decision. Which, to be fair, it was. There was a reason that he didn't give out his real name, but… it also only seemed fair to level the playing field. It wasn't like Red had signed up to get part of his cover blown.

Armitage tapped his fingers against the table-top, and sighed- a long, drawn out one, that spoke of a desperate hope it could take your worries with it. “Poe…” Armitage started, which, considering he wasn’t currently dead, Poe considered a good thing, though with the way that Armitage said it, he wouldn't entirely pass it off as not still being an option, even with Pelin gone.

Armitage seemed to pull himself back together, folding his hands together on the tabletop. “How much did you hear?” He asked, and it made Poe reconsider his initial impressions of the guy. He looked like the sort of person that might end up being one of the high-rollers in the underworld. Maybe that was why he’d been on Canto Bight and Mos Eisley in the first place… 

“Not much, just his last line.” Which revealed Armitage’s name, but that hadn’t been his fault. “I’m sorry?”

“No, it’s… it’s fine.” A lie, but he wasn’t going to say anything. “I should go. Easier for both of us if we don't see each other again.” Poe was pretty certain that that would be harder than Armitage expected, considering the pure unlikeliness that was them meeting this many times, but… somehow, it had happened, and kept happening, and if he was honest, he liked the other man. Usually, he wouldn't care about it. It wasn’t like they had done much besides sleep together, but he liked the potential that was there.

“Or... “ Poe started, suddenly realizing he had to go from here. Curse his mouth for running off before his mind had caught up. General Organa, and the Admiral had all mentioned the same thing. Well at least the worst that could happen here was that he and Armitage stopped seeing each other, or, he supposed, he could end up dead in a ditch somewhere, but that didn’t need to be thought about. “We could… go up to a room, and pretend it was always like this?”

It was, admittedly, not his best moment, or his best suggestion, but being suave wasn’t exactly his primary concern right now. Though… it seemed that Armitage was actually considering it, which surprised him. “You could walk out here, right now, into the rain, and we could pretend that we’ve never met if that’s what you really want, but, I’m not sure it is.” 

Armitage lifted a half empty glass to his lips, taking a drink of the deep red liquid, wine, Poe was pretty certain, looking at the colour, but it could have been something else, he wasn’t wholly certain on that front, especially not considering the planet they were on.

“What do you say Red? I can make it worth your while.” He said, echoing his line the first time they had met. It had worked then, and maybe it could work now. 

“I’m still not Red.” 

Poe laughed, and shrugged. “Old habits die hard.” he said, standing up and offering a hand to Armitage. 

For what felt like dramatically longer than the few seconds it must have been, Poe stood there, hand extended. “Alright Poe, I’m willing to try. I have a room in the building beside.” And then he reached out and accepted the hand, standing. Poe grinned.

“I’ll make sure you don't regret it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Annnd that's a wrap everbody. Now we've seen how Hux and Poe end up in bed together, and do continue to do such up until the events of Grey Area. 
> 
> If anybody is curious about why I chose the named I did:  
> Poe is more obvious. He took his father's first name. War hero? check. Someone he loves and respects? Check. A name he feels comfortable with? Check. He loves his father. Andor was taken from the Rogue One character. I very much headcanon that it was the sort of panic response he gave at 19 when he was sent out on a mission, and then it stuck.
> 
> Armitage's name is again, references to the last war and people he looked up to. Wil is short for Wilhuff- think Tarkin, but Wil was less... memorable. Amedda is actually the name of a former senator under the Empire. He became one of Palpatine's close associates. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this, please feed the comment monster, I live for your thoughts!


End file.
